


What Lies Within

by Steggy



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Agent Carter - Freeform, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brooklyn, Captain America: The First Avenger, Christmas, Domestic, F/M, Fluff, domestic!steggy, surprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-08-23 00:06:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8306255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steggy/pseuds/Steggy
Summary: It's Christmas. Brooklyn is blanketed in snow, and as the brunette agent peers out the window, tea in hand, she ponders the day to come, the surprises in store, and most of all, the soldier asleep in her bed.





	1. What Lies Within

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit early, but I've been working on this for almost three years now... It was time I posted it. Hope you like it!
> 
> bother me on twitter @alyjevans or on tumblr @spangledcap & @poorcap

A dusting of snow blanketed the rooftops of the skyscrapers, and the pavement of the once busy streets had since fallen silent. An atmosphere of elation followed the fall of white, frozen crystals, settling across Brooklyn during the night, with the promise of Christmas in the morning. The brunette inhabitant of the flat overlooking the city opted to stay indoors this morning, her breath fogging the glass of the balcony. She normally perched on it each morning to watch the sun drench the sky in an enormous splash of oranges and pinks. A cup of tea cradled in her strong hands as she peered out into the world still asleep, her own contentment and excitement bubbled within her. Her lips, not yet painted their signature red, curled into the smallest of smiles, the thought of what events would pass this morning flooding her mind. The sharing of breakfast, opening of gifts, the exchange of thank you’s, and the experience of their first Christmas together. Her long lost soldier remained asleep, likely bundled up in the sheets of their bed and able to sleep peacefully for the first time in weeks. And she wouldn’t dare wake him too early if she could help it.

Bringing her cup to her lips, she took a long draw from it, the hot liquid pleasantly burning down her throat and warming her from the inside out. She lingered at the door for just a few more transient moments before turning to enter the kitchen, setting her mug of tea on the counter. She began to rummage through cupboards as quietly as she could to find something to prepare for breakfast. The Christmas tree glimmered in the corner of her eyes, light radiating from its place in the den, and the smile returned to her soft lips as she flicked the stovetop on and placed a frying pan on top.

 

* * *

 

Inevitably, the sizzling of cooking bacon filled the apartment, and the aroma beckoned the soldier from the confines of their bedroom. His blonde locks stuck up in all different directions, his loose t-shirt and sleep pants filled with wrinkles, and as he neared the kitchen, she caught the yawn slipping out of his mouth that he had no intentions of masking. The yawn was evidence enough that he’d rested, truly, and slept through the night, and when the brunette’s brown eyes met the ice blue hue of his own, she saw the change in him with just that one good night’s rest. A lazy grin captured his lips before he crossed the threshold into the kitchen, his feet carrying him forward until he stood just behind the brunette, leaning over her shoulder to get a better whiff of the bacon.

With his head bent down slightly, his chin just barely cleared the shell of her ear, and when he spoke, his voice was smooth like velvet, yet still groggy, thick with sleep.

“Mm, bacon… Must be a special morning,” He murmured, his breath tickling her ear, and before she could a word out, still to her surprise after all this time, his lips met her temple where they whispered against her skin, “Merry Christmas, Peggy.”

Uncharacteristically, heat rushed to her cheeks, becoming a bit bashful as she flipped over the bacon, the underside browned and crisped. She hid her smile, keeping her eyes on what she was doing as she mustered up a response, “Happy Christmas, Steve.”

His hands fit like missing puzzle pieces into the curves of her hips for just a fleeting moment before he slipped away to peer into the fridge and take out the creamer for the coffee that Peggy had set to brew. The silence, other than the crackle of the bacon, was welcomed, comfortable rather than awkward. For those few seconds or so as she cooked breakfast and he made himself a cup of coffee, it was as if no time had passed. As if the ice had never separated them, as if that blue serum didn’t pump now through both of their veins, as if, at the end of almost every day, he didn’t become Captain America, setting off to save the world yet again. As if she didn’t become Agent Carter at the end of the day, ensuring the plans of dear old Captain America weren’t incredibly ludicrous to keep him from getting himself killed. It was as if they were just ordinary, domestic, when they were anything but.

When the bacon finished, Peggy removed it from the pan and placed it on a plate, instinctively moving to continue breakfast by taking the egg carton out of the fridge. However, before she had the chance to even reach the counter, Steve intercepted the return, removing the carton from her possession. His eyes glimmered with what Peggy could only attribute to adoration.

“Let me make the rest, and you can finish your tea,” He said calmly, and when an eyebrow of hers lifted, he simply raised his shoulders in a small shrug. “It’s Christmas, and I want to cook some scrambled eggs for my beautiful dame I live with. I mean, agent. Woman. Beautiful—”

A rosy color blossomed on his cheeks, stammering like he always did when he complimented her. Regardless of the years that had passed, all of the time that they were together, he still struggled to find the right words, to make sure everything he said was perfect. That every word would make sure he wasn’t going to mess everything up. As if anything could push her away. All it did was cause her lips to erupt into a brilliant grin, amused, both eyebrows arched, waiting. And with a sudden burst of confidence shining through his fit of nerves, he settled on, “My best girl.”

The corner’s of Steve’s own lips twitched up, his eyes locking with Peggy’s, anxious still, apparent that he was unsure if he’d said the right thing, if he’d gone overboard or not. Despite how long they’d been together, saying it in words still came as a bit of a difficulty. Almost an entire lifetime between them thanks to the ice and still somewhat stuck in the era they originated from, words to express what they meant to each other didn’t quite roll off of the tongue. The excitement that had been brewing within her when she’d woken now flooded over with a short laugh just above her breath. She shook her head slightly and turned away to retrieve her tea, in the process, hiding the blush that crept on to her own cheeks.

“Seems like you’ve learned at least a  _bit_ about women since you’ve moved in,” She mused, smiling at him over the rim of her mug when she trusted that the color in her cheeks had faded enough to turn back.

“You think so?” The grin that stretched across his lips was contagious, and when he carefully rounded her to reach the stove, she had to battle off the immediate urge to reach for him and bring those grinning lips to her own. Especially when she recalled what she had in store for him later on and imagined what smile might be on his lips then.

“Well, there’s hardly a strong supply of blonde secretaries around here to prove otherwise,” She teased, and judging by the flash of guilt that appeared on his face, she’d struck a nerve, perhaps opening up a healing wound. Quickly, she scrambled to apologize for her mistake of resurfacing poor memories, adding, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, it’s okay, I deserve a little reminding now and then,” He said, turning his back to her, but his voice was now coated with a distant sadness, heavy with regret, and it pained her to know she was the cause of it. “It makes me treasure you just that much more.”

Those strong hands cradling her tea tightened ever so slightly around the porcelain mug, her frustration rising with another rush of heat to her cheeks. Even with the weight of memories better left in past pressing on his shoulders, he managed to somehow find a brighter side to her mistake, without so much as a spared glance from the stove over to her. The year that she had spent yearning for him to find his way back from somewhere out in the middle of the Arctic, it had been the biggest test of her life, desperately aiming to mold herself to be like the selfless man he was, trying to dedicate her life to justice, and solely so. Yet, he here was, testing her again, pushing her to be better, giving her something to look up to even when she was the one dishing the blows he had to dodge.

Sliding into a stool at the counter, her eyes fell to the tea nearing the bottom of the mug, pondering about where they were, how far they’d come, and how it just kept getting better. That smile never faded far from her lips, lingering, twitching the corners. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

His shoulders shook with a light chuckle as he nudged the cooking eggs along the frying pan, careful, always so careful even when he was so  _completely_ reckless sometimes, not to burn them. “In all fairness, there’s a lotta things about us that shouldn’t be possible, Peg.”

 

* * *

 

“Last one.” The small parcel, no bigger than a fist, was just about shoved into her hands as the two sat cross-legged on the carpet before the fire place, that now roared, flushing their skin. They had long before promised not to do anything extravagant, yet, with the clutter and mess of torn away wrapping paper surrounding them, it seemed that he hadn’t done much on his end in keeping such a promise. She wasn’t complaining, especially with what she had in store for him.

With the wrapping paper torn away, a tiny black box now burned in her hand. Something started within her, a flurry, a shock, perhaps, as thoughts swirled around in her mind about what this might be, and it was difficult to avoid the obvious main thought that stuck most. Her eyes darted from the box, to the look on Steve’s face, the anticipation, excitement, etched into his features, and with a pounding heart, she pushed the lid up.

Inside, the warm light of the fire bounced off the jewel in the center, shimmering in every beam of it it could find.

“It was my ma’s,” Steve’s voice broke the moment of silence as she reeled to find words of her own. “Before she died, she told me to give this to… To someone, I, uh…” His stammering, on normal instance, such as earlier this morning, would have sparked a smile, a laugh, but for once, she found it difficult to do anything but gape. Frustrated, the soldier ruffled his hand through his blonde locks before exhaling, pulling himself together. The time it took to gather himself was getting shorter and shorter each time. Those calloused hands reached for one of her own, rough, but gentle, caring as they cradled the one not holding the opened box. “Peg... I love you.”

Tears brimmed her eyes as a mixture between a scoff and a laugh finally shattered the initial shock, hand tightly squeezing his own. “I’d hope so.”

Now it was Steve’s turn to chuckle. One hand reached to mold to the curve of her jaw, and he drew her closer, nearer, and as she lowered the box into her lap, his forehead came to brush hers. The intimacy, the initiation, every time without fail, set her ablaze, burning brighter than the fire beside them. Especially since he was the one being bold. A soft sigh rolled off his lips, and with his eyes locked on hers, a bright blush on both of their cheeks, he murmured, “All right, all right, let me get to the point, then.” His thumb brushed over her cheekbone. “My ma told me to give this necklace to someone I loved and someone I knew I wanted to spend my life with. I know we haven’t talked about it, and I’m not saying we have to right now or anything, but... Well, consider this my promise that one day, however long down the line, I’ll ask you.”

The simple, gorgeous, elegant emerald necklace Peggy was clutched a bit tighter as one tear slipped down her cheek with yet another breathy laugh. Eyelashes hooding her eyes for a moment, she glanced down at this family relic, something so close to Steve that was now hers and for such a loving reason, before she dared meet his gaze again. Then, impulsively, she stole a chaste kiss as a hand of her own sought more contact, landing on his chest, and after, she pulled back just enough to whisper against his lips. “You’re a sap.”

Steve laughed, and the vibrations tickled her lips as he took it a step further with his arms winding around her waist, fitting like puzzle pieces once more. “Fair enough. Just don’t tell the other fellas, hm?”

It was hard to resist rolling her eyes, that grin returning as brilliant as ever before Steve stole a soft, tiny kiss of his own. “All right, I suppose I could manage that.”

“Mm. Good.” Both of their eyelids fluttered closed, leaning, melting into a better, longer, deeper kiss as Peggy carefully set the necklace aside to wrap her arms around his neck. They molded to each other, soaking in each other, soaking in the moment, soaking in the warmth of each other and the warmth of the fire. Lips moved carefully, deliberately, in sync, gentle, adoring. But as content as either would have been to end their Christmas this way, there was still one last order of business to attend to.

Reluctantly breaking apart, Peggy’s forehead remained rested against his, though her hands slid down to press against his chest, reminding herself that this was real with the feel of the erratic heartbeat that matched her own beneath his shirt. “I have one last thing for you, too.”

His lips twitched in the ghost of a grin, intoxicated by her, always drunk off her as she was off of him. “And what’s that?” He pressed, seemingly confident that his gift sufficed for the both of them, and that he needed and wanted nothing more than this right here.

Lips curved into another smile. The long lost soldier found. The blue serum that pumped in both of their veins was nothing to the strength of what they shared. The brunette couldn’t imagine a better life. Even though he went off to be Captain America every day, even if she went off on various espionage missions, even when they risked death every day, they came home to each other. They came home to this. And _this_ , was all they ever needed. Her eyes closed once more, the smile on her lips growing as her focus rested on the thud of his heart against her palms, and as it sang to her the song of life, she finally mustered out a whisper.

“I’m pregnant.”

 


	2. Worth the Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's now the dead of summer. Brooklyn is alive with the festivities of the season, and as the brunette agent lays in bed, sheets sticking to her skin and her swollen stomach in the heat, she's unaware, as is the soldier preparing her tea in the kitchen, of what the day should bring other than birthday presents and fireworks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S HERE! The conclusion of What Lies Within. Enjoy. :)

Rays of sunlight peeked in the windows and bathed the room in splashes of yellow and deep orange, as the sun crept over the horizon, as the curtains waved in the soft, reliving, summer breeze that accompanied it. Still, the sheets clung to the brunette’s slick, sweaty skin as she reached and begged for any amount of sleep she could manage, desperate for something, _anything_ . But with the prominent bulge of her stomach, the sometimes gentle, and sometimes _not_ so gentle, kicks against her, even when her lost soldier spent the night rubbing her back and massaging her shoulders, nothing could make her comfortable enough.

Even in one of his t-shirts, the fabric refused to stretch over her ready-to-absolutely-pop belly, leaving it bare, exposed; although, with how unbearably hot she felt, she wasn’t quite ready to complain about a little more skin showing to help her cool down. Her hands ran down over the bump and rested just above her belly button, where she laced her fingers together and let out a deep sigh, eyes still closed despite knowing no sleep would come. Below on the streets of Brooklyn, the festivities had already rolled out: the colors of red, white, and blue screamed on every corner, children’s laughter bellowed up through the air and into the flat, and the aroma of varying barbeques mixed together to create a Brooklyn alive with patriotism. Although, all of it just made the brunette want to burrow beneath the sheets and covers, and she would, if it weren’t for how unbearably hot she was.

A gentle rap at the door broke her concentration, and with a sigh wrapped in a frustrated groan rising in her throat, she opened her eyes only to quickly suppress it when she discovered a still rustled from his own restless sleep Steve slipping into the room with a tray in his hands.

“Oh,” Steve said, closing the door behind him, shock clearly written across his face upon seeing her eyes open and peering up at him. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

A meek smile tugged at the corners of Peggy’s lips, taking in the sight of her soldier bringing in a pot of tea and two mugs, despite it more than likely being close to noon already. With a hand still over her swollen stomach, she finally gave up the hopeless dream of getting any sleep and carefully adjusted herself the best she could so that she was sitting up against the headboard. “I would have had to fallen asleep in the first place for you to have woken me, darling.”

His face contorted into a small, pitying grimace as he set the tray on the nightstand before sitting down on the edge of the bed, one arm reaching over her legs to support himself. His other hand reached out to rest just below hers, his palm flat against her skin, feeling, and the difference in temperature, his hands practically ice in comparison to how hot she was, was enough to make her flinch a bit. “Still won’t let you sleep, huh?”

“No, not really,” She murmured, sliding her hand to rest over his own and relishing in the coolness of his skin. “Though I do have to ask,” She fell into a brief moment of silence as Steve lowered his head, surprising her, still, even after nine months of being pregnant, by gently pressing a sweet kiss to her baby belly. Her heart swelled, forgetting the exhaustion that pulled at her every waking second, and she used her free hand to push her fingers through his messy, dirty blonde hair. “What it is that caused you to bring me tea on _your_ birthday.”

The breath accompanying the chuckle that rolled off of Steve’s lips tickled her skin, and as he slowly pulled back from her stomach, her hand was forced to move to cradle his cheek. “Well, because the woman I love,” Now he took his turn in pausing so he could move his own hand to brush his fingers across the emerald shining around her neck,  “...is carrying our child, and she needs her tea.”

If her skin could be anymore flushed, it would be. She ran her thumb along his cheekbone, an adoring smile stretching across her lips. Though, just as she was about to open her mouth and respond, there was a flutter within her abdomen, almost as if the baby had heard Steve talking about them. A soft laugh escaped her, and she felt Steve lean into her touch, resting his cheek against her palm. Over these past months, mornings like these were more and more frequent, closeness was more welcomed, more easily obtained, although blushes were still just as common. Somehow, with the prospect of what was to come this summer, they were far more connected now than ever, and although Peggy would like to blame it completely on the raging hormones, she did have to admit that having Steve through this, to being doing this _with_ Steve, was far more than she had ever wanted. To have her lost soldier. To love him, and for him to love her. And now for them to be so close to being parents.

Daringly, she closed the bit of a gap between them so that she could press a chaste, soft kiss to his lips, lingering, however, close to him when she drew away, a grin tugging at her own lips. “Have I ever told you that you’re a sap?”

Steve’s shoulders shook as he laughed, his hands coming up to rest on either side of her face for a fleeting moment as he returned with his own chaste kiss, though this one was pressed to her forehead. “Many times.”

A sigh rolled off of her lips, content, allowing herself to melt into his touch until he pulled away and turned towards the cooling tea beside them, to which he, as he had started insisting on doing, made her cup of tea in comfortable silence before passing off the porcelain mug to her. Murmuring her thanks, she cradled the mug, eyes sweeping over Steve, admiring him, studying every inch of him, and reminding herself of where they had come from. Where they were headed. How they should have never gotten the chance to do this. To have this. His icy blue eyes met hers, and they held each other’s gaze for a moment. Everything she ever wanted was right in front of her. And she never thought she’d ever have this. Would ever want this again after she lost him.

It was awhile before Peggy dared to break the silence.

“Happy birthday, though, Steve,” She said quietly, firmly, eyes gleaming. After a second, she couldn’t help but add, as her lips curved into a smirk, “You’re a bit ancient now, don’t you think?”

The corners of his lips twitched upwards. Unable to resist it, and to Peggy’s own relief, he grabbed her tea and set aside both before his hands came back to her cheeks. “You don’t have much room to talk, y’know.”

Though now it was much easier for him to, Peggy refused to let him shake her resolve. The only reaction she would give him was for her smirk to widen as she reached up to gently hold his wrists as he cradled her face. “James and Natasha are coming over soon.”

He rolled his eyes, although his forehead came to brush hers, which Peggy happily indulged in the intimacy, the closeness, especially when she was teasing him, because this only said to her that he was learning. “All right, all right. You’ve had your tea. How about I help you into the shower, and I’ll get started on the food?”

“Hm,” Peggy mused, “You must miss seeing me naked if you’re offering to help me into the shower.”

She watched as his cheeks blossomed into a deep crimson, and although he was definitely not going to admit it verbally, and neither was she, that _had_ been a downfall of the last few months of this trimester. And the hormones certainly didn’t help. “You’re impossible.”

Peggy beamed, a grin stretching wide across her not yet painted red lips. “I live to be impossible, darling.”

* * *

 

The chill of the refreshingly cold shower had done near nothing to rouse her from this endless exhaustion, though it managed to rinse off the sheen layer of sweat that stuck to her skin; still, the brunette knew that there was no possible way for her to take away from Steve’s day, even if he was hell bent on tending to her every little need.

As it had been for the past few weeks, and increasingly so, it seemed, almost every day, while rummaging through the small pile of clothes that she had left that would just cover her stomach, the only thing that came close to acceptable clothing were the sundresses Steve had lugged home one day from a closing maternity shop down the street. The sentiment had been there. But had Peggy been with him, there was no way she would have even let him near the rack. They were all hideous, splotched with random, ugly polka dots or gritty, dull patterns that looked as if they could double as stains from aging parchment, and above all, although they fit well enough, it bothered the brunette, more than she cared to admit, that she required such loose fitting clothing, far looser than her normal figure, and was then seemingly limited to such jarring looks.

The least of the horrible dresses was one that just brushed the floor when she slipped it on, and although fitting for the day, it was the stars and stripes that stretched over her stomach that made her take a moment’s pause in the mirror. As she smoothed the fabric over her body, her hands stopped just below her pregnant belly, and she allowed her mind to wonder. She had questioned it before. Whether or not she’d be a good mother. If she was ready. She’d never mentioned it to Steve. She couldn’t. Yet, when she let her mind run that way once more, something about today was different. There were no worries, no doubts. Something, although it could just be delusions from the lack of sleep, seemed to have clicked. Something was right about today.

The aromas that Steve was stirring up in the kitchen drifted into the bedroom and broke her from her thoughts. With one final glance in the mirror, and a reassuring plumping of the curlers wound tightly into her damp hair, she conceded her innate protests to the dress hanging on her shoulders and shuffled towards the source of the smells.

Pausing just before she turned the corner, as she drew closer to Steve, the clearer she could make out the quiet hums that were hidden just beneath the sounds of the knife hitting the cutting board with each stroke. One hand braced against the doorframe, Peggy slowly peeked around, careful not to disturb him or alert him to her presence. Especially because, as she focused more on the melody he was humming, she came to realize it was the one that the boys had been singing, well, _yelling_ , really, that night so many years ago in the pub. The night of the red dress.

Smiling to herself, one hand over her stomach, as it always seemed to be now, her shoulder rested against the doorframe, just watching, admiring the soldier leaned over the counter, slicing away at some fresh vegetables. In that moment, seeing him so at peace, happier than he ever seemed before, she wondered why she ever questioned herself. With Steve, there was no limits. With Steve, becoming a mother wouldn’t be so hard. Because with Steve, she too, was happier than she’d ever been before.

“How can I help?” She finally broke the silence, though in a volume no more than a whisper. Steve jumped slightly, but a chuckle immediately spilled out of him as he caught her eye, his attention straying from the cutting board. Setting the knife on the counter, his hands raised to his hips, and Peggy’s cheeks flushed with color, especially when his eyes drifted over the number she was wearing, and more when his eyebrow raised.

“There can only be three reasons,” He finally said. “One, you’re taking a jab at me,” His eyes glimmered, amusement in them as he took a step closer towards her. “Two, it’s only because of the day. Or three,” Now, with his hands still on his hips, he stood just in front of her, looking down at her with an adoring smile plastered across his lips. “You just want to show everyone how much you love me. Which, really,” As Peggy rolled her eyes, Steve grinned even brighter and brought his hands up to either side of her face. “I’m sure everyone knows by now.”

Her own hands raised, coming to rest where his had just left on his hips, and she mirrored his grin, suppressing the laughter that bubbled up in her throat. “Someone’s a bit full of themselves this morning, hm?”

Steve laughed, and the three options she was supposed to choose from faded away as he leaned down to meet her lips with his own, softly, indulgently, longer than the quick kisses from before. Her fingers curled into the thin fabric of the white t-shirt he was donning, melting beneath his touch, fading, like the unanswered question, into him, eyes fluttering closed until he pulled back. Still lingering, his hands still cupping her cheeks, his eyes bored into her own as he murmured, “Either way, it looks great on you, Peg.”

Her hands moved from his waist and travelled to where she could comfortably rest her palms flat against his chest, that grin on her lips ever growing to match the brilliant one on his own. “Hm,” She said with a slight pat against him. “Really, how can I help?”

Steve rolled his eyes, his hands dropping down to rest on her shoulders. He knew not to argue; it was near impossible for her to ever willingly accept a compliment, though, not without lack of trying. “Only you know how to make that weird sweet bread thing.”

“It’s called bread and butter pudding,” She laughed quietly, once more lightly patting his chest. “You grill, I’ll bake.”

* * *

 

Steve laughed, shaking his head with the beer bottle just brushing his lips. “C’mon, Buck, we’re not naming the baby James Jr.”

“What’s wrong with the name James, huh? I’m just _saying_ ,” Bucky’s lips curved into a devious smirk as he paused before taking a quick swig of his own beer. “It’d be an honor to have that name. People named James are the best.”

Peggy rolled her eyes for what must have been the millionth time since Bucky and Natasha had gotten here only a couple of hours ago. Practically licked clean paper plates littered the outside table they’d gotten for the balcony, a few empty beer bottles, too, but in Peggy’s case, empty water bottles. None of the food that Peggy and Steve had prepared had gone wasted, especially with two men with bottomless stomachs and enhanced metabolisms in attendance.

“Right,” Natasha mumbled, her own smirk starting to make an appearance. “But what if it’s a girl? Can’t guarantee she’d grow up to like being called James.”

Bucky shrugged and took another swig. “Call her Jamie.”

“Sorry, James, we’ve already picked out our potential names,” Peggy smiles, which, really, they hadn’t discussed other than throwing around a few names, but she looked over at Steve anyway, who then rested his hand on her knee. “And I can’t say your name ever came up.”

The sun beat down on her back, drawing droplets of sweat across her skin, but this time, the warmth was welcomed rather than despised, the sun having started its descent below the horizon line. The evening brought a cool breeze with it, making the heat bearable, and now the only thing left making her uncomfortable was the amount of stirring within her abdomen. And she was certain that Steve could sense it, her uneasiness, based on the squeezes on her knee every so often.

Bucky’s face turned down into a pout, though it was clear that there was some level of actual disappointment lying behind those eyes, as he set his beer on the table. “Got something against the name, Carter?”

“Tons, actually,” Peggy played along, nodding as one hand swept over her stomach and the other made its way over Steve’s on her knee beneath the table. “I knew a James once. He was a terrible sport when it came to sparring. And an alcoholic.”

His eyes narrowed in her direction, and beside her, Natasha snickered beneath her breath as she polished off her own bottle of beer. Steve grinned. Peggy did, too. Everything was as it should be. As it should have been ages ago. For Steve to have found his way home, for Peggy to have been there waiting for him, for Bucky to also discover a path back and to Natasha, here they sat living a life that they never imagined they would have. Or deserved. Yet, here they were celebrating Steve’s birthday and the Fourth of July, like any normal, domestic family would. And it seemed like the day, even as it was on its way to drawing to a close, could hardly get any better than sitting around the balcony as they were now, drinking, and cracking jokes at the others’ expense.

Until the stirring in her stomach suddenly seemingly annoyed her bladder, but she had no time to move.

Which did not slip without verbal acknowledgment as Peggy quipped, both hands moving to her swollen stomach, as her cheeks flushed with color.

Everyone’s eyes immediately turned to her, wide, alert, and Steve’s hand left its place over her knee so that he was able to shift closer to her faster than she could really process, his arm looping around her shoulders.

“What is it, Peg? What’s wrong?” Steve murmured, close to her ear, his voice dripping with concern as the other two froze, unsure how to help more than he could.

Eyebrows furrowed as she attempted to process what was happening as the warmth spread along the fabric of her dress, undoubtedly leaving a clear mark on the cement beneath them, Peggy closed her eyes and said quietly, “Nothing, nothing. I’m all right, I’m—”

Then the pain started.

And she knew, then, that she hadn’t just wet herself.

This time the quip was more of a yelp, and that was when Steve’s eyes finally found the puddle beneath her feet.

“Oh my god,” Steve said, louder, drawing the concern from Bucky and Natasha now. His eyes were as wide as they could possibly go, and as Peggy squeezed her eyes shut, breathing heavily as she pushed through her first contraction, Steve blinked a few times before looking up at her face. “That’s your water, isn’t it? You’re—You’re in labor.”

Peggy groaned, one hand leaving her stomach and latching on to his arm as she opened her eyes to look at him. “I believe—” Soon, the pain subsided, leaving her with a bit more sweat sticking to her skin and patchy breaths. “I believe I am, darling, and I swear to god if you freeze on me, I might kill you.”

Bucky chuckled, nervously, as he clambered to his feet, his hand on Natasha’s lower back as she stood, too, both of them quickly moving over to her, although he kept more of a distance while Natasha came right to her side. “I’d take that threat seriously if I were you, Rogers.”

Steve’s face was blank. Frozen. A sudden urge to sock him in the nose filled her. Instead, she turned to Natasha, her breathing starting to steady as she gently touched her arm, and Bucky rounded over to Steve to snap him out of whatever daze he’d fallen in. “There’s a bag by the front door. Would you mind?” She said, beginning to stand, to which Natasha unquestioningly moved to assist her, hand moving to her back.

“Of course, I’ll—”

“Wait, no!” Whatever Bucky had done had apparently jostled Steve out of his stupor.

“Steve, I don’t think now is—”

“No, no, I have to—”

Beside her, the sounds of the patio chairs screeching against the cement jarred her attention towards the two men grabbing at each other, until Steve seemingly came out the winner, and Bucky took a step back with his hands raised in the air. Confused, and admittedly getting more and more frustrated with her soldier by the second (which she had begun to count now to time the contractions), Peggy’s eyebrow raised. Then Steve, not so gracefully, fell to his knee and grabbed one of her hands.

“Peg, I love you, and I had planned to ask before, but I didn’t know that it was going to be today, and—” She realized what the two men had been arguing over was the small little velvet box in his hand. Smaller than the one that had held the necklace that was strewn across her neck.

She rolled her eyes, but before she could open her mouth to tell him now was definitely not the time for a proposal, her entire body tensed with the second contraction and another wave of agony, and all she could do was swat away his hand, double over as much as she could, and shout, “Rogers, not now!”

* * *

 

The air was suddenly void of all sound. Silence fell over the room, a room that had been filled to the brim with noise not long ago, the cries of the little person that changed the brunette and the long lost soldier into something new, the yells of the brunette with the pains of labor, the groans of the long lost soldier as his hand was nearly crushed beneath her strength. Silence came now, peace, washing over the new family like the soft, cool breeze that fluttered in from the late night peeking in the open window of the hospital room.

Bundled in a blanket adorned with colorful rattles and pacifiers, their son rested, sound asleep, in his mother’s arms as she leaned into the man at her side, exhausted, but too scared to sleep, to miss a moment of this. He was, too, his arm around her shoulders, head resting against hers as he peered down at the newest member of this family they had begun. It had been a long night: four hours of labor, plenty of shouting, from both Peggy and Steve (and, if she had heard right, even Bucky and Natasha when they weren’t allowed into the room), the longest twenty minutes of her life, but now, admiring the smooth lines of their son’s small, chubby face, the dark patch of hair on top of his head, born minutes before July 5th, it was like when Steve had found his way back home. It was worth the wait.

Steve sighed quietly, absentmindedly pressing a kiss into her hair before his free hand gently rested over their son’s chest, feeling it rise and fall as he slept soundly in her arms. “I think this might be the best birthday present I could have asked for, you know,” He murmured, and although the silence had been serene, nothing would ruin this moment.

She laughed beneath her breath, careful not to wake the sleeping newborn, as her eyes fluttered closed against her will, content in the warmth of her soldier beside her and the baby in her arms. “Well, good. It’s all I could manage for you this year.”

Steve’s shoulders shook slightly in his own quiet fit of laughter, and he rubbed her arm, falling into another pleasant, accepted moment of silence, soaking in each other and this future they had begun. Peggy began to drift, lulled towards the promise of sleep by the steady heartbeat that drummed beneath her ear, and the quicker one that beat against her own chest, but another kiss, this one pressed to her, more than likely still sticky with sweat, forehead, roused her enough to open her eyes again.

“I wasn’t kidding about wanting to marry you, Peg,” He whispered against her skin, unable to help himself when he pressed another kiss there before attempting to get a glance of her eyes. “I was serious about asking. I promised you I would, and… Well, I think now’s the best time, if any. Though, I don’t want to ruin this and reach for the ring in my pocket.”

As best as she could, she lifted her head from his chest, a tired smile stretching across her lips as she peered up at him. If someone had told her she would be here, not only in the twenty-first century, but _here_ , in Steve’s arms, their son in her own, she would have broken their nose for giving her false hope. But that hope had always been there, regardless of how many years she attempted to suppress it. And now she couldn’t be more grateful for that hope driving her to this moment, to him, to their son, even if for a long time it seemed it would never be possible.

“Well—”

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts, and both of their attention turned towards the two people peeking their head in, both of them still slightly surprised to see that they were still around at nearly three in the morning.

“Can we come meet James Jr., now?” Bucky asked, and although the ghost of a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, the sentiment still held true. The look on his face was more than enough evidence to show how genuinely excited he was to meet the little one, even if he did act, which she eagerly played along with, like he hated Peggy. The truth of the matter was that Bucky and Natasha were just as much a part of this family as any. And now the godparents of their son, she couldn’t deny their desire to meet him, as they were certainly more than entitled to. Even if it had interrupted a moment.

Steve shook his head, though a grin spread across his face, seemingly unfazed by the interruption. “Come on in. Just be as quiet as you can.”

“And his name is _William_ James. Not James Jr,” Peggy corrected, a smirk, more defined than Bucky’s, especially as his face fell in shock, controlling her lips.

The two rounded the hospital bed Steve and Peggy had managed to squeeze in together, and as Natasha carefully, tentatively, reached out to brush her fingers across William’s tiny, soft, closed fist, she murmured. “Rogers or Carter?”

Steve shifted a little, reminded of the unanswered question. “Well, we haven’t signed the birth—”

“Rogers,” Peggy said, certain. Her eyes left the family that surrounded her and looked up at the man she leaned into, the man she loved, and had loved for longer than she probably cared to admit. The man she silently already vowed to love forever. “William James _Rogers_.”

Steve’s eyes glimmered, as they did when he looked at her the way he was looking at her now, full of adoration, love, spilling over. He was wrapped up in her, and he in him. Tightly wound, bound together, already, for so much longer than this moment, before he’d ever even promised to ask that Christmas night. And to her, just to her, forgetting Bucky and Natasha around them, not quite understanding the weight of Peggy’s words, he whispered, “Is that a yes?”

Even through the exhaustion, no one could bring the smile on her face that appeared in the way that Steve could. A smile reserved for just him. And it appeared now, as she leaned up to steal the softest, albeit brief, kiss, and stayed as she paused for a moment to lose herself in the ocean of his eyes before finally responding, “It’s always been a yes.”

 


End file.
